All That Matters
by AStarWithNoSky
Summary: "Everything stops, and the only thing that actually matters is Rowley." Rowley/Greg


**A/N – It's quite surprising to me actually that I've not yet stumbled across a fic with this pairing. I mean, it's so there, and it's so cute. But hey, I thought I'd contribute, and hopefully I'll see some Rowley/Greg slash in the future!**

**DISCLAIMER – Jeff Kinney owns Diary of a Wimpy Kid, and all the characters mentioned. Although, Angie was only in the film, not the book.**

Almost jogging down the hallway to his next lesson, not wanting to be late for the third time in two days, he dodges the avalanches of balled up sheets of paper, rustling as they hit their target; the yellowish phlegm spat out onto the already dirty floor, occupied by a revolting sound of students building up the saliva and snot into one, ready to discard; the rough tugging and pushing of others simply trying to get to their desired lessons, and the kids thinking they are such 'badasses' by skipping the first half of class to terrorize the younger students because, why not? There's nothing better to do, so why not trip up the youngsters, wide eyed and fidgety, as they too, try to avoid anything solely related to the school hallway?

Disgust evident on his oval face as a boy about twice his size, in stature and height, pulls a slightly taller girl down by the collar, ravishing her lips, blocks his path. Breathing in slowly through his nose, he closes his eyes and prepares himself to barge through the rather over the top public display of affection. He squares up his shoulders, blocking out the noise of other students chattering away, singing, fighting, whatever, and begins to charge forward, because he simply cannot be bothered to be polite. Plus, he's late enough for class as it is, although, class times never seemed to bother anyone else but him and his teachers.

Then he's pulled backed roughly by the back of his collar. Spluttering from the sudden pressure on his throat, restricting his air supply, he looks up and glares at the one responsible, before noticing his whereabouts.

A broom cupboard.

Surrounding him in the small area – which he noticed fairly quickly due to being pressed up against the person to blame for choking him – was cleaning supplies stacked up high upon the dusty shelves, making him sneeze softly. Sniffing, the musky smell clinging to his nostrils desperately, he steps backwards slightly, trying to give himself and the other boy a little personal space.

"Greg.." The taller boy looks downwards at his feet: fidgeting and wringing his hands. As soon as he reached high school, he had a growth spurt, making him five foot ten inches, causing him to appear slimmer too. However, he never really lost the weight, so he was still chubby, as "he wouldn't really be Rowley without the added flab", as Greg often liked to point out, with a cheeky toothy grin adorning his features.

"Yes?" Greg, a deadpan expression on his face, however, hadn't been quite as lucky in the height department. He was a reasonable five foot six inches, but was still shorter than the majority of the boys in his year or above. Although, he towered over a few of the girls, Holly, Patty and Angie were still taller than him, arriving at the five foot eight mark, making him unsatisfied.

"Um.. well, you see, um. I have this, uh, this.. friend?" Rowley looked his best friend, confusion and, was that fear? In his brown eyes, asking permission to carry on with what he wanted to say.

Automatically, Greg rolled his eyes, but urged Rowley to get on with it, a small friendly smile occupying his pink lips. He had given up on his mission to arrive to Math on time. It was kind of futile, really.

"And I – me – my, uh, friend. Yeah, he thinks he likes someone. But he, er, he doesn't know what to do about it."

The smaller boy could feel a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips, bursting to get through because he wanted this moment to arrive for what felt like a lifetime. Why? He couldn't pinpoint the exact reason why. Maybe it's excitement and joy for his friend?

Crossing his arms and leaning all his weight on his right leg, Greg raised an eyebrow. "Huh. So, your friend, who does he like, then?"

Rowley's cheeks turned a similar colour to his hair, blazing with embarrassment. "Oh, uh. That's the thing. He's um, scared about liking them, because it's er, different."

This reply made Greg raise his eyebrows even higher, and cause him to cock his head to right slightly. Rowley swallows as he feels a lump appear in his throat. "Different, you say?"

Rowley nods a little too enthusiastically, mouth agape and hands in tights fists at either side of him. Greg waits for an explanation, but none comes, so he steps forward locking eyes with his best friend, who in turn waits for Greg to speak.

"So, how is it different?"

The ginger boy wipes the palms of his hands on his legs, as his eyes starts to resemble rabbit eyes as they dart around the room looking for somewhere, _anywhere_, to look other than Greg.

Why did he do this to begin with?

The shorter boy pats his friends arm reassuringly, and smiles_. _Rowley sucks in a breath of air, and opens his mouth, "You."

Mouth forming a small 'o' shape in utter shock, Greg just stares ahead, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular, and instead his brain focuses on a coherent response. He looks up and spots the defeated look on Rowley's round face as he groans, burying his face into his hands because he knew, he _knew_, telling Greg would be a bad idea. A pang of sadness stabs at Greg's heart.

"W-what if I liked your, um, friend too?" The tone of his voice, and expression on his face is almost hopeful, causing Rowley to look up, narrowing his eyes, suspiciously. Greg just shrugs and smiles, cocking his head to the side once more.

"Really?"

Greg just nods, blue eyes fixated on brown ones, willing them to reach his level and to take control. So, they do. Slowly, Rowley shuffles forward and crouches down, putting his arms on either side of his friend against the closed door, potentially trapping him, and tilts his head in the opposite direction leaning in. The boys eyes both flutter close as the distance between their lips close, and Greg grabs a fistful of Rowley's shirt, twisting it in a panic.

Everything stops, and the only thing that actually matters is Rowley. Greg sighs as he feels the velvety soft lips dance against his; as his taste buds tingle from the taste of Rowley, sweet like a lolly, but with a slight bitter edge to it like coffee, making the sensation all that more exhilarating, and the scent of Rowley, filling Greg's nostrils with the pineapple body wash and shampoo his best friend uses every night. He melts into the kiss, never wanting to let go.

Realisation hits Greg that he should be in Math at that very moment, but he decides to shoo the nagging in the back of his mind away, and focus on the thing that really mattered: Rowley.


End file.
